


Sorry, the Romance Section Burned Down

by InsominiacArrest



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bookstore, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, Getting Together, Humor, Portland Oregon, Slow Burn, very poor customer service
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-29
Updated: 2019-08-04
Packaged: 2020-05-30 15:20:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19405987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InsominiacArrest/pseuds/InsominiacArrest
Summary: Catra has her shit together. She finally left her abusive family business, bought a hairbrush, and recently came into managing an old bookstore that she might as well take care of.She’s decided to lick her wounds, change her own name, and let it all go. And then she sees someone going by her bookstore window each day: a jogger that looks almost exactly her old childhood friend.Catra has her shit together- and other lies she tells herself while providing poor customer service, grumbling, and trying to let go of old ghosts.Catradora bookstore AU





	1. The Masochistic Tendencies of the Population of Portland

The general populace of Portland must have had some sort of Pavlovian response to seeing an indie bookstore. They saw the words: nook, emporium, or ink-something and they had to enter, regardless of whether the owner was a huge dick to them or not.

Catra’s bookshop was assigned to her by the powers that be and was obviously called: **The Ink Emporium**. Since then she had personally been trying to bully every hipster with a bun and beard (48% of the Portland populace) and every girl with a septum piercing and dyed bangs (52% of Portland populace) into a future accounting job and a shower.

Nonetheless, no matter how many times she told them “the Handmaid’s Tale is right up the stairs and past the aisle that says 'shove it,'” they still kept coming back. It was a Portland thing, or maybe a kink.

Catra was currently standing and delivering to such a customer, “no.” She said dryly with only half the air necessary, “I don’t think we have that in stock right now.”  
  
The man in thick-rimmed glasses and a plaid shirt frowned delicately, “the bible?”  
  
“Nope,” she shook her head, “never heard of it.”

He made a face that extended well past the confines of his body and turned around, “this place is next level, Rick was right.” He muttered to himself and it was too late for Catra to realize her mistake. He had already been impressed.

It was 8 am on a Thursday and it was raining out. It was raining in the way that people say “hello” in the morning and James Bond sleeps with beautiful woman each film, it was just going to happen.

If it wasn’t already raining in Portland it was considering rain or musing on it or God forbid sunny out and there was always something a little suspicious about that. 

There was nothing that day except the sheets of rain and the grey and the man with black thick-rimmed glasses.

Catra leaned on the cashier’s desk and sniffed at her warm milk. The milk was too hot to drink so far, but she knew the rules of tea, hot cocoa, and warm beverages: if she looked away for even a second it would become cooled bathwater or tepid puddles on a warm day.

She wouldn’t chance it.

Catra kept her eyes on her milk and also on the enormous windows at the front of the shop, glancing at them now and then and frowning. They were golden-tinted to appear older and more “quaint.” The name of the shop was painted in red and there was a perfect street view of the queer clothing shop, ice cream parlour, and apartment complex across the way.

The line of shops were brick with differently colored doors, signs with unusual fonts, and a five story apartment complex painted in browns and greys next to them. The sidewalk itself was slim and cracked and had little bits of grass making a run for it up through the concrete.

The thin gutters regularly overflowed and the whole neighborhood smelled of the color green and moss itself. It was a neighborhood Catra had watched often. 

Not that she cared, of course, she didn’t care about this place. Scorpia had made her order pistachio-flavored ice cream at the parlour and she hadn’t forgiven her, the whole city, or the universe itself yet.

She kept watching the street. 

A girl in a dress with a sunflower pattern on it and blue feathers in her hair came in the front door, a little ding rang through the loose dusty air. Catra didn’t so much as throw a welcoming glare in her direction.

It was 9 o’clock, 9 o’clock sharp. It was time.

And there she was, hair up, face stony and lost to itself, jogging pants and tank top damp from the drizzle and two earbuds stuffed in. Sometimes Catra imagined she could hear her music, that she was one of those bastards that never turned it down enough.

She imagined songs like “Wake Me Up Before You Go Go” and “Push it to the Limit” from Rocky 3 playing, alongside high school musical and maybe 80s disco workout numbers. Her shoes were bright red and expression blank as an ironing board.

Catra ignored the customer that tried to ask her a question, narrowing her eyes at the jogging figure instead. _What is she doing here?_ Catra’s blood boiled slightly, _what the fuck is she trying to do?_

“Excuse me,” the girl pushed her incredibly long dangling earring back, “I wanted to know where the romance section is.”  
  
“Wherever you want it to be,” she said with a flippant hand raise, “try downstairs.” Of course, she knew that was the military history and self-help books section, but that was a type of romance, was it not?

“Okay,” she gave Catra the side-eye before retreating to the stairs.  
  
Catra crept toward the window, keeping her head down and body low as if that would mean anything. As if the girl would ever look up and see her.

_Adora._

_Fucking Adora._

Catra watched the figure in the red gym shoes make it to the end of the block and disappear, her expression soured. “Coward.” She wasn’t even sure who she was talking to.

By the time she returned to her desk her warm milk had gone cold and she was ready to throw everyone out. And she almost did.

\---------------

Catra reclined back on one of the old couches in “The Ink Emporium.” The shop itself was three stories: a basement, a central level, and an upper level that collected dust and nick-nacks of places lost to time.

The couch was a faded red Victorian thing that was more lumps than proper cushions at that point and smelled of moth balls. It was situated perpendicular to a banister that looked out over the first floor and was surrounded by piles of old magazines and poetry.

Catra batted lazily at the string of an old lamp sitting next to her and crammed the phone up to her ear.

“I just don’t see why I couldn’t get a pet shop or something,” she grumbled, “your family owns one of those, don’t they?”  
  
“Oh yeah,” the person on the other line said in a thick Minnesota accent, “two, just inside Vermont, Paws and Pals.”  
  
“Okay,” Catra said through gritted teeth, “why not there?” She had only been at the bookshop for barely a month by then and it had rained almost every single day since she got there.  
  
“But then we couldn’t see each other Wildcat,” Scorpia said amiably, “and I couldn’t keep an eye on ya’ like they asked.”  
  
Catra rolled her eyes, Scorpia always had been too honest for her own good. “You could watch me in Vermont.”  
  
Scorpia just tisked, “isn’t that a little too close to,” she started whispering as if someone could overhear them, “you-know-who?”  
  
Catra groaned loudly, “I’m not running from Voldemort, Jesus Christ.” Catra kicked her feet in the air, “it’s so fucking dull here.”  
  
“Have you tried to go out yet?”  
  
“No.” Catra said back shortly.

“Have you tried joining any local groups? I promise you’ll like kickboxing.”  
  
Catra let her head hang backward at a break-neck angle, “absolutely not.”

“Have you tried the pistachio ice cream?”  
  
Catra used every muscle in her face to wrinkle her nose, “you already made me do that. Ugh.”

“Well you just hang tight,” Scorpia announced, “I’ll be back from my trips soon. We can hang out after that.”  
  
Catra just groaned again.

“We’ll have a movie night, and game night, and maybe Entrapta can come, but only once,” Scorpia said decidedly, “and maybe just… for an hour. Then just more me and you!”

Catra sat back up again, looked out the window and realized what time it was. “I gotta go Scorpia,” she held up the phone with her shoulder, “we’ll do this all again later.” She said it more like a threat than any real offering of goodwill.  
  
“Remember to unplug the electrical kettle when you’re done with it and not eat too fast, I know how your tummy is-”  
  
“See ya’.” Catra put the ancient landline phone down without actually hanging up and skidded down the narrow stairs to the first level. The cramped stairs had a classic wooden banister, crooked boards, and were known for mother’s looking at them and saying “you could break your neck on those.”  
  
Catra was rather fond of them.

She reached the window just in time to see the figure materialize out of the grey morning, eyes ahead and blonde ponytail bobbing in place. If Catra knew better she wouldn’t stare, she wouldn’t make faces through the window, and wouldn’t remember.

 _We’ve always got each other,_ the words were like sunlight refracturing through bits of broken glass, _promise._

Catra shook her head, the jogger splashed in a puddle and didn’t so much as flinch and then kept going. 

At first Catra hadn’t been sure it was Adora, hadn’t assumed some random blonde stranger was her. But the little things, the upright posture, the not-flinching at puddles, the light bags under her eyes had made Catra certain.

She was still being goddamn haunted after all this time.

\-------------------

Catra had always accepted she couldn’t spell. She wasn’t particularly good at sitting still either or listening to old bags of wind drone on about anything- even if the cranky shadow lady controlled her meal times.

“Say that last name again.” Catra was showing her teeth, all of them, in a fashionably sinister order.

An older gentleman with a thick mustache, small glasses, and the look on his face to match disgruntled bears practically sneered, “Vonnegut, Kurt Vonnegut.”  
  
Historically Catra rarely tried to fetch things for anyone, much less fetch books, and much less for people that read. Catra never really got into reading, her childhood was not really conducive for picking up the habit. It was only by the force of irony alone that she was assigned a bookshop through witness protection services (in which an “in” pulled a few strings for her situation).

That morning she had tried every method she knew as a “rude salesperson,” arguing, scowling, chewing gum.

But the old man must have been thicker than a tar pit and would not let up, “for God’s sake it’s Slaughterhouse Five, it’s famous. And my niece’s birthday is in an hour.” He was looking at his watch and Catra was basically knocking over books left and right in protest.

“Spell that last name again,” she just needed him out of here.  
  
“V,” he said through clenched teeth, “onnegut.”  
  
“Oh my God.” 

Catra was only spared from having to take this ordeal all the way to the top (either the actual owners of the shop or God Herself) when the shop bell rang. Catra perked up, “one second sir,” she said sir in the way you spit out the gristle of tough meat, “I should go see to that.”  
  
She turned around, and then she turned back toward the man. “You _are_ in a hurry though,” she dove straight back into the “V” section of the fiction novels.  
  
“You bet your ass I am,” he folded his arms over his chest in the way she imagined a goblin guarding a bridge might or else a somewhat elegant angry toad.

Catra’s mind was somewhere else though, _shit, shit, shit._

First of all, it was pouring out like the second coming of The Great Flood, heavy dank sheets of rain that stopped traffic and sloshed every inch of the city in a cold wash cycle. Secondly, there was a wet, blonde, and familiar person in the shop entrance.

“Here,” Catra surprised even herself by finding the book for the man, a colorful five was printed on the front and the corner of it was bent, “second hand.”  
  
He just took the book and swiftly trundled over to the cash register, Catra almost didn’t follow. Someone was in her shop, hiding from the rain and looking at a thick photography book. Someone was in her shop.

Catra really didn’t want to follow.

 _It’s been fifteen years,_ she reminded herself, _this is ridiculous._

She forced her legs to sluggishly work and trained her expression into something empty and indifferent, she was very good at that. They made it to the register.

“Do you have a store loyalty card?” She asked in a remote tone.

“Oh heavens no.”  
  
“Good choice,” she rang him up and double-bagged his book on request (“bags these days, tearing like tissue paper, already trash the second ya’ get ahold of them”). Catra kept her eyes on his thick greying facial hair and the fact his nose flared ever so slightly when he spoke.

“Enjoy your morning young lady,” he grumbled, “I have to go deal with fifteen year olds.”  
  
“Sure,” she waved, but wasn’t looking at him. Catra’s eyes were no longer under her control, bewitched by their own treacherous will. 

The blonde girl was still reading the photography book.

Catra hovered, she loitered, she marred her own pride by _lingering_ of all things. She pressed her lips together tightly, _maybe it’s not her._

Several pieces of curled hair had fallen loose from the girl’s ponytail and hung limply around her face, damp and dripping onto the carpet and anything nearby. Her shoulders were broad and well-built, legs toned (probably from all that running), and hands large- even compared to the thick book she was holding.

It was exactly how Catra pictured she’d look if she grew up.

Catra blinked a couple times, studying her back for a moment. _What the hell,_ Catra made up her mind in a quick second.

“Hey,” she wished her voice didn’t sound so small and bleached right then. The young woman turned in place, realizing she was being addressed, she quirked her head to the side, mouth a closed curious “o.”  
  
It was her.

“Need help finding anything?” Catra let each word drop in their own disconnected sort of way, not really inviting an answer with her hollow tone.

Adora stood up straight and her face flipped, smiling slightly, “I don’t think so.” She gave a hiccup of a laugh, “I’m mostly here to get out of the rain. Do I… uh, need to buy something to stay?”  
  
Adora didn’t recognize Catra. She didn’t recognize her. _Why would she?_

It had been fifteen years and Catra had been forced to change a couple things about her appearance after she fled.

She shook her head stiffly, “nah.” She scratched the back of her neck, “I’ll make an exception this time.”  
  
Adora, _the_ Adora, snorted, “don’t tell me I’ll have to do it next time.”  
  
Catra leaned forward, “if you drip on anymore of the merch I might make you buy something right now.”  
  
Adora looked down at the book she was currently getting wet, “oh!” She placed the photo book down roughly. “My bad.”  
  
Catra smiled despite herself, “tch.” She lifted her chin up. “That one’s second hand anyway, so you lucked out.”  
  
She swore the other woman might have rolled her eyes right then, but Catra couldn’t tell. “Now,” she clapped her hands together, “I have to get back to stocking, don’t ruin anything else.”  
  
She turned around, this was enough excitement for one morning, maybe the rest of the week. She needed a nap.

“Sorry about your book,” Adora said with a strain, “do you, uh, need any tall places stocked in return?” She offered weakly. “I could help.”

 _She always_ **_was_ ** _too helpful, wasn’t she?_

Catra glanced over her shoulder, eyes narrowed, “are you saying I can’t reach tall places?”  
  
Adora looked her up and down, “yes?”  
  
Catra turned and put her hands on her hips, “two dollars,” she pointed, “to the tip jar, right now.”  
  
“What?” Her mouth fell open, “why?”  
  
She gave a private smirk, “taxation.” She lifted her chin, “for the tall lording it over the rest of us.”  
  
Adora squinted for another long moment before snort-laughing and lifting her head up, “good one.” She laughed, “tall person tax.”  
  
Catra just pointed at the jar, “for my pain and suffering.”  
  
Adora was back to being confused, “you’re serious?” She looked Catra over again, probably looking for you a name tag, “you.”  
  
“Catra.” Catra said simply since it wasn’t a name that was very tracable and one she’d been using for a long time now, “Catra Smith.”  
  
“Huh,” Adora said loosely, tilting her head to the side and pausing for just a moment. “Interesting name.”  
  
“It’s like Electra but with a cat,” she said bluntly, “now where’s my Pain and Suffering tax?”

“For saying you’re short?”  
  
“For taxing my patience.”  
  
Adora glanced outside to probably check if the rain had let up yet. “Shoot.” She felt at her elastic shorts, “I forgot my extortion money in my other running pants.”  
  
Catra forced herself not to chuckle, “shame.” She turned around, “I’m going to go take my break, cry for fifteen minutes, and then come wipe down they book you soaked.”  
  
Adora made a face. “Jesus.”  
  
“Actually,” she smirked, “it’s Catra. But close.”  
  
“Well Catra.” Catra was already walking away, “if I bought books, I don’t think I choose to buy them from this shop!”

Catra just laughed and sauntered toward the back of the store, her heart thundering in her chest and world spinning. She kept her swagger up until she found a chair to collapse into a few minutes later.

She put her head in hands and hoped Adora would disappear again just like that.

 _She’s just a normal person now,_ her thoughts ran around in circles, _a real person all flushed and well-fed and making jokes._ Catra wondered where she went wrong.

She hid in the back until the door dinged once more and poked her head to see that the rain had turned to grey mist. She was alone again.

Catra spent the rest of the day in the upper level, pretending the shop was empty, closed, or otherwise destroyed, and staring at her nails. Kevin would be in tomorrow, Kevin could do her shift, she wouldn’t have to work for at least a few days.

She could forget this whole thing. She could forget how normal it felt during their brief exchange.

When she finally stalked back down to the main shop area she noticed something sticking out of her tip jar. Her eyebrows skyrocketed and she hurried over to the container.

It had two dollars in it. And a note: _For any vegetables you might need for further growth._

Catra looked dumbly down and felt the weight of something unnamed bearing down on her, maybe it was the deity of Never Catching a Break, or Customer Service Incidents, or maybe it was just the ghosts. It was always ghosts.

She stuffed the two dollars in her pocket and went down into the basement to read about WWI or the Romans or just something blowing up. 


	2. Bargain Bin Relations

Adora’s temples pulsed. They ached and pulsed with a dull weight that dragged her eyes down to her feet and nudged at her thoughts like a snagged hang-nail of the brain. 

Her mouth tasted like sawdust and one of her contacts kept getting blurry and slipping away from her. “Come on,” she rubbed at her eye to get it back in place and almost slid into the wall as she climbed the steps.

The apartment complex steps were standard issue brown, damp in the way all things in Portland breathed water and exhaled muggy mist. They smelled slightly moldy and Adora tried to ignore the unnaturally spongy and pliant feel.

Adora shook herself awake and tried not to think about the time, her pocket had already buzzed twice (Bow asking where she was) and then dinged once (Bow tweeting about his roommate possibly ending up in a ditch somewhere or kidnapped by a murderous and/or lusty Mothman).

She got to the second story of the complex, stumbled into the doorframe and quickly got a hold of her silver key and jammed the teeth into the lock of door 212. She shouldered the door open and exhaled when the air was warm and dry against her cheeks, “I’m home.” She called because she knew no one was asleep yet.

TV violence sounded from the other room followed by two people jumping to their feet, “Adora!”

She gave a soft smile at their voices.

The front door led to a hallway with dim yellowing lights, green forest wallpaper that Glimmer swore she was going to tear out with a pair of safety scissors one of these days, and khaki-colored carpet. Adora adjusted her bag higher on her shoulder and kicked the door closed behind her.

“It’s past midnight,” Glimmer popped her head around the corner first, her purple pajamas vibrant and sharp against the muted backdrop.

Bow threw his arms in the air behind her, “I was about to call Razz. I was so worried, she told me capricorn’s might face grave obstacles today, grave!”

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Adora said with a faint smile and small yawns. “Mrs. Hope just had some extra filing before the case on Monday.”

Bow whimpered in the back of his throat and Glimmer shook her head, “did you tell her you have classes starting too?”

Adora yawned again and made her way into their living room/dining room/kitchen area, which was one long continuous room with League of Legends muted in the background. Bow liked to play it to keep his hands busy when he was nervous, Glimmer liked to play it to yell at 12 year-olds on the other side of the country.

“I mean, no,” Adora dumped her work bag on the nearest chair, “but she trusts me to sort my own stuff out.”  
  
Glimmer eyed her, “it’s. Past. Midnight.” Adora didn’t respond to that, she knew the trappings of the job she accepted.

Feeling some tension Bow turned toward the kitchen, “I’ll make us some tea. Some ‘got home totally safe and fine’ tea!” Bow’s dads liked to send them loose-leaf tea, most of them were “study supports” that smelled like the color yellow and the inside of old lady’s purses.

Adora slumped down in one of the chairs and let her limbs relax in all four directions, her head panged gently and she blinked a couple times. She glanced over at Glimmer who took a seat across from her and Adora exhaled slowly, “you talk to your mom about bus passes? I can cover it in my part of the rent on Tues-”

“She’s sending them over,” Glimmer said bluntly and then presented a nice smile, “Governor’s treat.”

A vein popped in Adora’s forehead, “they’re 100 bucks each.” She grit out, “I can cover mine.”  
  
“It’s a treat.” Glimmer’s impeccably straight white teeth never looked so straight before. Adora tried to keep her mouth from pinching together sourly.

“Sure,” she sat up straight, “but I can pay her back for mine.”

“Hey, do you want chamomile plus-plus or this one just called ‘Not Mice’?” Bow asked loudly, he didn’t like it when they fought, Adora didn’t either but it was late and Glimmer still didn’t _get_ it.

“Chamomile,” Adora said without breaking eye contact with Glimmer.

“Not mice.” She responded similarly flatly.

“ALRIGHT.” Bow got busy, probably _too_ busy with the amount of clanking and water-pouring coming from his corner.

“Tell her thank you,” Adora continued, “but I’ll be sending over the money when I get paid this month.”

Glimmer gave a deep groan and tossed her head back in exasperation, she dramatically slumped back in the little white chair across from Adora, “have you even paid for your books yet this semester?”

Adora’s eyes went wide, “of course I’m gonna-”

“Have you?”

Adora just made a guttural sound in the back of her throat and sank lower in her seat, “Glimmer. I have this all covered... stop worrying. I only need like, a couple books anyway.”

Glimmer shook her head and ran a hand through her short colorful hair, “classes start in a day!”

“I’ll get them on sale…” Both Glimmer and Bow visibly cringed as Adora said that, the fall semester started soon and Adora’s budget wasn’t always “elastic.” Adora rubbed a hand over her face, “it’s,” she sighed, “no problem.”

Glimmer looked like she wanted to go back to playing video games and repeatedly smashing the B button, she folded her hands over her chest, “right.”

Bow came over and placed a steaming mug of something that smelled like mulch in front of her. “Let’s try the place across the street,” he patted her shoulder, “that one’s pretty out of the way, I’m sure they’ll have some stuff.”

Adora just glanced at him, and somberly read his expression: _they’ll have some stuff unlike the college bookstore which will either be marked up or completely empty._

Adora winced slightly, “maybe…” She took a sip of the “chamomile” tea, it reminded her of the one time she tried catnip as a kid to see what the cats were going wild about. She wrinkled her nose. “I mean… I might have made like, an enemy? There?”

“You made… an enemy?” Bow asked in concern.

“You made an enemy?” Glimmer said at the same time, except her eyes sparkled as she said it.

Bow just frowned and leaned forward, “is this like the lady at the stables thing?”  
  
“What? No. And Gabrielle said sorry after I punched her. Not even a big deal. This one is more like...” she hummed into her cat-nip drink, “we, uh, argued. I got her book wet.”  
  
“You got books wet?” Bow’s face reenacted a horror movie reveal.

“Did they ban you?” Gimmer had a long list of places she was banned from (and then reinstated in by her mom), which probably explained the gingerly growing smile on her face.

“No!” Adora shook her head, “it’s no big deal, we can go there tomorrow, sure,” she bit her lip, did she want to see the cranky book store lady again? “If you uh, you’ll go with me, yeah?”

They exchanged a look and Glimmer nodded, “oh yeah,” she lifted her chin high and took a gulp or questionable green brew, “totally wouldn’t miss meeting your new enemy.”

“Of course,” Bow gave a thumbs up and Glimmer leaned across the table.

“Tell me she’s like an old cranky witch lady with a snaggletooth.”  
  
Adora was quiet for a long second, she looked down at her nails and fidgeted in place, “let’s just say… no. She is not that.”

Bow shook his head, “I can’t believe you got a bunch of books wet… my dads would kill me for that.”  
  
“It was only one!”

Adora got home past midnight from her long shift, but she still stayed up until 1 drinking questionable tea and watching Glimmer and Bow destroy preteens at the Summoner’s Rift. She had classes to worry about and filing and a bookstore to visit in the morning.

  
But her head stopped hurting at least for a little bit.

\------------------------

Adora didn’t normally like to skip her morning jog, she liked to keep a tight schedule, it kept her from drifting off like an untied balloon. She grew up on a schedule and she hoped to one day die on schedule (hopefully at a much later date).

However, she had a 10 am class the next day to prepare for since the teacher wanted them to have already read chapter one by then. Figured. And she was going to miss her jog.

Adora tightened her ponytail with a rough tug and bounced on her heels in the hall as Bow finished breakfast, “I have to get back to the office by 12.”  
  
She could practically hear Glimmer rolling her eyes, “it’s Sunday!”  
  
Adora shrugged, “it’s a big case.”  
  
Bow however ran on “Bow Time” and that meant a well-balanced breakfast and tweeting about the latest Strangers Things season in between bites. Adora on the other hand rolled out of bed, splashed water on her face, and inhaled a single protein bar before reaching the front door.

Glimmer held a large canister of coffee and waited at the door with her, “so,” she took a deep sip of something that smelled like midnight and deep space. Glimmer liked her coffee dark. “What’s this enemy of yours like?”  
  
Adora shook her head, “okay, enemy was a strong word last night. This isn’t like high school drama or those online message boards you and Bow visit.”  
  
“Hey! I’m friends with everyone on my message board, thank you very much.” He was still working on his omelette and orange juice. 

Glimmer just smirked, she definitely was _not_ friends with everyone on her online message boards. “Look at you. Ruining property-”  
  
“It was one book!”

“We’ll be bailing you out of jail soon,” Glimmer clicked her tongue with a teasing look in her eye, “should I bring a chair for the cage re-match?”

“The bookstore lady wasn’t even _that_ upset.” _Probably,_ “And she might not even be there this time,” she glanced out the open front door toward the yellow and red shop across the street.

Glimmer turned, “come on Bow!” She yelled so that the next door neighbors could also hear them, “or we’ll leave and visit Mrs. Czuy’s dog without you!”

Bow whined for a moment but they all made it out the door and onto the street, and on cue they ran into Mrs. Czuy in her pale-blue tracksuit and large dour dog that looked like a canine version of Ron Swanson from Parks and Rec.

They scratched him behind the ears and Bow let the dog lick his face as they chatted about the weather (rain) and local politics (potholes). 

Adora didn’t look over toward the bookstore yet. She didn’t pinch her shoulders together and didn’t think about her previous statement concerning never shopping there again.

 _It’s not a big deal._ She reminded herself, _the bookshop girl probably already forgot about it._

Glimmer eyed her as they went toward the faded red door and Bow opened it up with a distinct _ding_. Adora glanced down at her reading list as they walked in and stifled a groan.

There had to be at least 12 books for this semester and she wasn’t even going full time.

“Okay,” she refused to study the bookshop just yet, “I need a ninth edition of The Fi-”  
  
“Is that her?” Glimmer tugged on Adora’s sleeve.

“What?” Adora shot her a sharp look, “we’re here for books.”  
  
Bow started whispering hoarsely in Adora’s ear, “is she kinda scary looking with fluffy hair and angry eyes-”

“Oh look at that!” Adora grabbed her friends wrists, “what lovely section of,” she struggled for a moment as she scanned the nearest corner, “Russian crime novels.”  
  
She dragged them off to the side, “she’s looking, she’s looking.” Bow announced probably in earshot of said shop worker.

“Love me some Dostoevsky,” Adora called and picked up a book at random and pretended to leaf through it, for some reason it was in actual Russian.

Glimmer kept shooting looks over their shoulders, but eventually settled down. “Can we see the list at least?”  
  
Adora handed over the book list as the cluttered space seemed to feel even smaller, _I don’t have anything to be embarrassed about, I’m just shopping._ She reminded herself and her mouth set in a hard line.

Glimmer was grumbling to herself about carrying this all home and Bow seemed actually immersed in a book titled “The Fur Hat.”

Adora let herself look behind them.

The shop keep girl, Catra- the Catra girl, was behind them. She was standing on the other side of the room with an open box of grey books that she was stacking haphazardly by the window display,

She was just as Adora remembered her: rumpled maroon shirt that said “The Ink Emporium,” thick black leggings, immensely fluffy brown hair that fell to her shoulder tops. She had sharp eyes, finely indented cheeks, and a mouth that curled at the edges.

Something panged deep in Adora’s chest at the sight, but she couldn’t quite place it. It was like walking on a swollen ankle or just missing your bus, something dragged it’s fingernails through her mind but she couldn’t get ahold of the shape of it.

She was squinting over at the lithe figure when the girl jerked her head up and caught Adora’s eyes. Adora froze, the girl just gave a plain grin- unseasoned, raw, and _not_ FDA approved. “Oi,” she gave a short wave, “you here to actually buy something this time?”  
  
Adora just frowned, her insides prickling. She cleared her throat and held up her list, “we’re looking for a couple things actually.”  
  
Glimmer lifted her eyebrows in a silent question and Bow knitted his brows together over his book. Adora began walking over toward Catra.

“Wait, _now_ we’re going to engage with the enemy?” Glimmer whispered in her direction.

“Maybe we could make peace?” Bow offered, “I have some brownie’s in my bag somewhere.”  
  
“Ssssh,” she hushed them and met Catra’s gaze again. Adora straightened her shoulders and walked over, “you must be feeling the college rush, but I just need a few things.”  
  
“College rush?” The girl squinted at her, “can’t say we’ve had that. It’s been as quiet as usual.”  
  
The girl seemed to purr her words, using them in a way that people teased kids with toys they couldn’t have or were purposefully late to engagements. Words meant to bother.

“Well,” Adora reached the displays and front of the shop, “I just remember you have a lot of sales here.”  
  
“Not that many.”  
  
Adora’s eyebrow twitched, “here.” She handed the list over, “do you have any of these?” Catra didn’t even look at it, she studied Adora up and down instead. Adora shifted in place, “what?”  
  
“Weird to see you dry.” She said flatly and fluffed her thick hair.

Adora made a face, “sorry to disappoint. I’ll be sure to come in soaked as usual next time.”  
  
“I thought you weren’t coming back?” Catra gave a sleek, mellow grin. “Or won’t buy from me at least.”

“Is this why they’re enemies?” Bow hissed at Glimmer and they both definitely weren’t helping.

“You know what,” Adora reached out, “I _can_ bring my business elsewhere. I already know of another place… a hundred other places! The internet.” 

The girl just clicked her tongue, “calm your kittens.” She said with her hands up, “what is all this?” She finally looked down at the paper, “you in trouble with the law, blondie?”

Adora looked dumbly her way, “it’s Adora. And no?”  
  
“Oh,” the girl shook her head, “you’re just a nerd. Right.”  
  
Adora rolled her eyes, “I’m in school. Criminal justice major, now, I’ll take that back.”  
  
The girl bonelessly put the paper above her head, “right. That junk is down with the war books. Come on, basement it is.”  
  
Adora just watched her with narrowed eyes, Bow and Glimmer were still whispering behind them. “Fine.” Adora followed her.

Catra’s whole body moved with slick pivots and light steps- a fox escaping a hunter’s trap or a fish wiggling out between iron bars. The only proper word for it was “sauntering.” Arrogant and self-assured- the cat does not get eaten by the coyote, she simply climbs a tree and saunters away.

Adora’s vision was fogging over as they came to a series of steep steps that traveled into a dark burrow of a room. She followed down and blinked into a windowless basement, the walls were exposed cement and the carpet a thin, dark blue. The lights above were pure crystal white but that didn’t seem to matter as the shadows outnumbered them in every which way.

It smelled musty and earthy with a cool air that shivered down Adora’s spine.

There were two dark couches in the corner and a nook with an electric kettle and a couple mugs on the counter, a massive wooden desk sat against the wall with lion-clawed feet and a stiff chair meant for goblin kings. Besides that there were shelves and shelves of towering books, stacked well above her head, and tightly stuffed together. It was even more claustrophobic than the store above.

Catra turned around in circles before focusing on the far end of the space, “most of them are second hand.” She pointed to the corner, “knock yourself out.”  
  
Adora furrowed her brow as she realized the worker was not going to actually fetch the books for them, “thanks.” She put her hand out for her list, “pleasure as always.”  
  
The girl gave a smile that was a sideways storm warning, “Adora,” she said the name in the way you wrap something in dirty sheets and throw it out the window. She clicked her tongue, “Suits you. Nice to put a name to our local miscreants.”  
  
Adora rolled her eyes, “you want me to pay for it? I’ll pay for it.”  
  
“Don’t pay for it,” Glimmer whispered into her ear, though she was several feet too small to actually reach it. “School books are already enough as it is.”  
  
Catra’s eyes ran over Adora’s companions for the first time, “it’s fine.” She turned away and snorted loudly, “I’d rob this place myself if I didn’t already know we don’t even keep hundreds in the registers.”  
  
“O… okay?” Adora was more confused than when she first entered.

“See you around.” And with that Catra slipped away, a shadow disappearing into the stacks and melding into nothing.

“No offense,” Bow said under his breath, but not that under, “but the enemies you make are super weird.”  
  
Adora sighed, “tell me about it.”

\-------------

They ended up only finding five of the twelve books Adora needed, but luckily one of them was for the teacher that wanted her to have read the first chapter by Monday. It would have to do, _and_ all of them were on sale.

The trio stood on the main level in a tight cluster.

Bow held his phone up to his ear and spoke with a soothing tone, “take deep breaths Michelle, you’re going to do fantastic. Remember how we practiced your instep kick yesterday, yeah? You were flying out there.” Bow coached kids sports at a local rec center, it paid the bills in the same way ice cream was technically breakfast. Barely.

He loved it though, seemed to genuinely love it. Adora stifled her pang of jealousy and faced the cash register again.

“Hello?” She rang a little bell on the counter and scowled at the place a cashier should be.

Glimmer cupped her hands around her mouth, “Hello?!” Her face was visibly screwed up. She didn’t like when people flaked out on their duties, Glimmer had never even missed a single meeting of the “Young Socialists” club even after almost fist-fighting two of the members.

Adora rang the little desk bell more loudly, “we’d like to check out!” She glanced down at her watch and her lips pinched together, “it’s almost eleven thirty.”  
  
The bus itself took thirty-five minutes to get to her work, and that wasn’t even accounting for traffic and changing her shoes. Bow spoke more loudly, “no, no, I don’t think Abby Wambach would be disappointed in you. I think she’d be proud of you! You’ve stuck with this so long.”

“Bow,” Glimmer waved a hand in front of his face and he covered the speaker as one of his eyebrows twitched.

 _"What?_ ” He squinted at them.  
  
“Do your Bow thing.” Glimmer gestured around.

“Leave a detailed yelp review?” Adora offered uncertainty.

“No,” Glimmer jabbed a finger in the air, “charm her. Adora has obviously made her disappear, we need a Bow offensive.”  
  
“Hey!” Adora put her hands on her hips, “she’s the one with the weird attitude. I did not make her literally high-tail it out of the shop.” They had checked every level at this point.

Glimmer shook her head, “oh no, this is definitely on her, but we still have to get out of here with your books.”

Bow turned to Adora with hum, “what’s her name again?”  
  
“Catra.”  
  
“Catra!” Bow called in a sing-song voice, “we’ll give you a fudge brownie for coming out now. Real brownies, from me! Not even from a box mix!”  
  
No response.

Adora gave a spectacular sigh, “of course.” She groaned, “of course this would happen.” She reached into her wallet, “anyone got cash? I have to go.”  
  
Leaving a bunch of crumpled dollar bills on a front desk in the middle of the day seemed like a bad idea, but the world was full of bad ideas such as “leaving your job with customers still in the shop” and “pissing off a girl almost a head taller than you.”

Adora swallowed dryly when Glimmer was the one that got out a hundred dollar bill and covered most of the five books.

“You just carry that around?” Even Bow seemed a little bemused.

“I’ll pay you back,” Adora whispered, doing the math in her head as they walked away.

“Don’t worry about it,” Glimmer gave her a regular dismissive wave, “early birthday present.”  
  
Adora just bit the inside of her mouth, _I’m going to pay you back._ It was a promise she had made before and was probably going to have to keep making.

 _One day, one day, one day, one day._ One day she was going to be the one who could carry around “emergency 100s” in her wallet and not even blink about it. One day that would be her.

Until then, she looked over her shoulder and swore she saw two eyes in the dark, her spine tingled. Past the last bookshelves and into the gloom there was the slightest hint of something there. Eyes, one blue and one golden brown, frightened things- but Adora swore the book store workers eyes were both blue.

Then she swore she didn’t see anything at all and left the store.

“I’m definitely not coming back here,” she grumbled and made her way back onto the cracked sidewalks where it had started to drizzle.

“Tell me about it.”  
  
“At least your enemy is kinda hot,” Glimmer noted.

Bow just nodded, “she’s got that evil James Bond lady villain about her.”

“Oh my God, guys.” She shook her head, “ _no._ ”

She tried not to think about the eyes following her out or the fact she just left a wad of cash on a desk. She tried to think about the books she just got, getting to work, and how she was going to pay for dinner that night after she just spent her last twenty there.

She tried at least.


	3. Grocery Store Gambling

Catra opened her fridge. She gave the contents of it a good long hard stare, and then she closed her fridge again.

The light above her flickered, she stared at her white fridge door, opened it, looked inside and her stomach grumbled like an entire cantina band. “Ugh.” She covered her eyes with one hand and groaned. 

She currently owned eight and a half beers (flavor: watered down piss), two limes (flavor: Farmer’s Market dirt), one old bread roll (flavor: hardened stone), and some organic vegan butter (flavor: your grandma’s hand cream).

All of those except the beer had been there when Catra moved into the place as someone had loaded the fridge for her beforehand. And she had spent the last three weeks successfully emptying it.

“Fuck,” she glanced at her phone and realized her favorite pizza place wouldn’t open for another two hours. “Fiiiine.” She whined and slammed her fridge closed just for the sheer slamming sensation of it all.

She searched her apartment for a jacket that smelled the least mealy and found a “Help the Earth Thrive!” reusable bag. She’d be caught dead before she let a grocery store charge her ten cents for a plastic bag, there were only so many humiliations she could stomach.

Her phone buzzed with a text, she shoved it into her pocket without reading Scorpia’s latest five-paragraph story, and headed for the door.

Catra’s apartment was gifted to her from the last owner of the bookshop. It was attached to the store itself by a big fat red door at the back. The past owner was friend’s with Scorpia’s parents who rented the place to him, and then had been happy enough to loan it to Scopria’s “reformed delinquent” friend next.

Catra had been regretting being reformed ever since then.

She walked into the rare muggy sunshine outside and tugged her hood up over her unbrushed hair. She had only brought herself to the local grocery store once so far, and that one visit had stopped her from returning ever since.

What the fuck was a “star fruit”? Catra’s Boston manners told her to shred it and ask questions later.

Her stomach grumbled at her again though and she resolved to find the aisle where they hid the ramen noodles if it killed her this time.

She crammed her headphones in and listened to Linkin Park on high volume until she had to dash across the street to make it to “Good Grows Groceries” on the corner of the block. It was a boxy local market that prided itself on being local, green, and tiny.

The only thing Catra knew was that it was impossible to buy in bulk from them and that their peanut butter was only acceptable at best.

Her sneakers squeaked on the linoleum floors as she entered and she yanked her headphones out and looked left and right. For a moment she was at a loss, she was used to the feeling, but it was more profound for a mesmerizing second.

  
The white fluorescent lights above, the kids in grocery store carts, the mom’s in gym shoes reading price labels, and young people grabbing discount beef. The aisles of foods, the scent of deli meats from the corner, and coffee from next door, the people in hoodies, purses, mustaches.

_How is this my life?_

It was surreal, like she walked into a sitcom instead of a show where she’s always looking twice over her shoulder and paid for everything in grubby dollar bills.

_How did I get here?_

She didn’t dwell on the question for very long and instead went to find a grocery basket and get this over with. She plucked a basket up and made a beeline for the outer part of the store in order to work her way in.

Catra sniffed several fruits she actually recognized, before pausing as she registered voices that were stomach-wrenchingly familiar. “Oh come one,” she muttered to herself before diving behind the apples display and perking her ears up.

“I’m telling you,” Adora’s friend, the little one, Glimmer, said. “She’s working you too hard, you need to talk to her.”  
  
“Mrs. Hope has a lot of cases on her plate right now, I understand she needs my help.” That was Adora, sounding _oh so_ Adora.

“Is she even paying you for the extra hours?” Glimmer sounded frustrated and Catra almost rolled her eyes.

“I mean,” Adora’s little gang stopped nearby, “I’ll bring it up to her.”  
  
“Erg!” Glimmer noisily thunked something into their shopping cart.

Catra just snorted, _trouble in paradise._ It suited them

“Besides,” Adora said cheerily, “the She-ra Law firms gives great recommendation letters. It’ll all pay off in the long run.”

Catra’s eyes went wide, her mouth fell open, and she twisted around in place. For a moment she imagined leaping out, for a moment she imagined jabbing a finger in the air and yelling. For a moment she almost lost her shit.

Then Catra took a deep breath, centered herself, and crawled out from behind the apple display like a reasonable person and bolted out of the store. 

_God,_ she lamented as she ground her teeth down and jogged away, _I’m glad I abandoned them in the shop that day. Thank fucking God._

A few days ago she had slipped away as Adora tried to shop for law books- overwhelmed with a sickness she was never going to name.

Now she just felt sick.

\------------------------

Catra paced back and forth with her hands bunched up into fists, “can you believe it?” She asked shrilly, “can you even believe?”  
  
Scorpia lay on the old victorian couch on the second level of the bookshop, they were closed for the day and nightfall had crept over the windows with a blank thickness. Catra was still fuming.

“I hear you wildcat,” she said with a yawn- still jet lagged from her flight home. “But remind me what she did wrong again?”  
  
Catra turned angrily on her heels, “did you read my texts?”   
  
“Um,” Scorpia glanced down at her phone, “it just reads ‘ack, fuck, I’m going to shred her.’ Oh and then you said ‘guess who works for the she-ra law firm?’ And then I guessed the candle sh-”   
  
Catra threw her head back, “what are the odds? It’s just so perfect.”

Scorpia sat up in place to study her. “What is?”

Catra bit out, “it’s the same fucking law firm that prosecuted me back in Boston!”  
  
Scorpia tilted her head to the side, “weren’t they the ones that offered you the plea deal? Or well, that branch of them did,” Scorpia offered tentatively, “and you know, kept you out of jail if you offered up info?”

“Yeah! The one that ruined my life and drove me to work at a crappy bookstore on the other side of the fucking country.” She kicked the nearest book into another pile of books that wobbled dangerously.   
  
“Woah there, slow your roll,” Scorpia got up and faced her, “let’s do the exercises, deep breath in, deep breath out.”   
  
“I don’t want to breath,” she struggled in Scorpia’s arms as the much larger woman tried to bundle her up and rock her back and forth.

“I mean, this person probably didn’t work your case specifically.” Scorpia said with a smile, “and this is a time for starting over, remember?”  
  
“How can I start over,” Catra seethed and clawed at her thick arm with her nails, “when _she’s_ here?!” 

“Um,” Scorpia let her go as she yowled like a wet cat. “Who is this Adora person again?”  
  
Catra’s eyes shifted around, “no one.” She said fiercely and looked down to the floor, “a ghost from the past.”   
  
“Huh,” Scorpia just nodded, “well maybe you could just avoid her. Put it all to rest.”

“I’ve got a better ideal,” Catra lifted herself up to her full height and a wild smile broke out across her face, “why don’t I ruin her life? Just like she ruined mine.”  
  
“No?” Scorpia said hesitantly and then more firmly, “Catra, no.”   
  
Catra took a deep breath in through her nose, “don’t worry.” Her slim wicked grin spread, “I won’t draw attention to myself.” Her eyes slitted, “she’ll barely notice a thing.” 

  
Scorpia just gave Catra a very concerned look as Catra started to devise ways how to insert herself into someone’s life without them sensing it.


End file.
